2011 Preamble:

Looking back at last year's list, I was pretty down on what had come out in 2010. There are reasons for that, partly the material in question, partly a rough year health-wise that had me in a bad mood for extended periods of time. But it's been a much better year this time around, both for me and for music in general. My list of 2011 albums that I spent some actual time listening to was at least twice this list, and there are still a handful of albums that I haven't had the chance to really delve into yet. I've given them all cursory listens, so it's not as if I'm missing out on something that should be on this list (other than maybe the Tom Waits album). Verdict: on the whole, a really good year.

Get Your Free On:

Dub Kweli

Immortal Technique – “The Martyr”

The King Khan Experience

With no further ado, let's get it on!

10.  Slim Cessna's Auto Club - “Unentitled”

I will kick off this list with a really good album that I didn't listen to nearly as much as I should have. In 2008, I picked Slim Cessna's Auto Club's “Cipher” as my favorite album, and that album has held steady in my listening rotation in the years since. It's a tremendous album. And “Unentitled” is also a very, very good album. If I was picking one to start with, I'd have to go with “Cipher,” but you wouldn't be wasting your money here, either.

Part of the reason that I didn't get into this album as deeply is that I missed Slim Cessna's shows this time around, and their live shows are blisteringly good. Having the opportunity to experience some of this material in that setting would have definitely boosted my opinion of this album. I admit, that's entirely my fault. And if they swing around my way again soon, I'm sure I'll go see them and get into the period of obsession with this album that I haven't had the chance to experience yet.

I'm not going to say this is the best album I've ever heard. And a big part of the reason that I included it on the list is that it's both really funny and a bit of a different sound than a lot of my collection. When you've been buying albums for a while, part of the consideration is “do I need another album that sounds like (fill in the blank)?” There were a few albums that I backed off of on the basis that my answer was simply, “no.” I did not need something that sounded vaguely like Nirvana (or whomever), but wasn't as good. I'd rather just listen to Nirvana (or whomever), if it's all the same to you.

I did listen to this one quite a bit, and it's an enjoyable, funny bluegrass album. I'm sure that if Steve Martin hadn't been involved, I probably wouldn't have given it a second (or maybe even a first) glance, but he was, so I did. If you need something to keep your “O Brother, Where Art Thou?” soundtrack company, you could do much, much worse than this.

I feel like this one may require some explaining, although I'm also tempted not to explain. But I'll put it this way: “Thank You Happy Birthday” feels like a really good throwback album to the 90's alternative sound. It's fine if you're not down with that, if you also understand that I'm not down with strummy/acousticy/whispery nonsense. And that sound has hijacked the indie sound over the last decade, and I just don't want to hear it any more. I have a soft spot for stuff like Cage the Elephant, and there is both a few good songs and a pretty solid rock album present here. Both “Aberdeen” and “Shake Me Down” got some heavy play on my Zune this year, and so I tip my hat to this album.

I am a big Foo Fighters fan, and I've been on the Foo train since before the first album. They do something that few other bands do right now: just be a good rock band. Their stock in trade is not revolutionary music, it's doing what they do well.

With “Wasting Light,” it was hard not to get my hopes up. Between the choice of producer (Butch Vig, and you should already know why that's important) and having the whole band intact again, it felt like a promise of a home-run. The result was a really, really good album. It's not quite a home-run, but it's like a stand-up triple with the bases loaded. There aren't boatloads of giant hooks; this is a hard-edged album that needs to be played loudly so that you can swim around in the distortion. In Foo canon, this might be their second best album (behind “The Colour and the Shape”).

We all have a pretty good idea of what the Foo Fighters sound like at this point, and that's fine. Saves some explanation here. I'm just happy to have another album of theirs that's at near-peak form. Plus, mega-points for having Bob Mould guest on “Dear Rosemary.”

I own a lot of Decemberists material, but other than “16 Military Wives,” which I really like, their albums have at times felt like obligations than pleasurable listening material. I know that sounds awful, but honestly, their albums have been like “if you like this, then try this” recommendations that didn't quite click with me. I didn't feel that way about “The King is Dead,” though.

This might be a simplified version of what the Decemberists have done in the past; easing up on the vocab lessons, throw some honest to goodness hooks in there, and jangle, jangle, jangle. But the results are more immediately listenable and more pleasurable. It's a good album, it's a really good way to spend forty-five minutes (or however long it is). It's not as if this album is a complete u-turn and middle finger to long-time fans, it's more of a changed emphasis on something that had been lurking in their earlier work.

This is the album that seemingly all of the online critics think that I should love most of all. And it's a good, interesting album. It's a distinct album, which goes a long way. This album came out roughly at the same time as my #1 album of the year, and this is my second favorite of the two. There's a lot to recommend this album, particularly if you're an indie-minded music fan. And by that, I mean it's a rap album for the skinny-jean, beard-o set. There's nothing wrong with that at all. It's atmospheric, full of empty space that lets the unusual sound palette breathe. That's the sort of sound that makes sense if you're into indie rock albums.

There's a giant “but” hanging in the air here. So let's get down to why I didn't love it as much as a lot of critics did. It's not a rap album. It's a rap album for hipsters. It came out on Sub Pop, for crying out loud. And I like actual rap albums, too. My only frame of reference isn't fuzzy lo-fi guitar bands. It feels like there was a lot of attention put towards creating a soundscape (successfully, I have to say), but little to no effort put into connecting with the listener. It comes off cold, distant, and emotionally off-putting. It feels like when you wake up from a nap that went on a little too long, and you spend the rest of the day a little off and a little confused. As if you weren't completely jostled out of the dream you had just dipped your toes into. And that hampers how much I want to listen to it.

I like the Shabazz Palaces album. It's an achievement, and a bit of evolution for a rap album. I listened to this album more than a lot of albums I bought this year. But it didn't quite connect with me in the way I'd want it to in order for me to get behind it like Pitchfork did. It's a very good album that I don't want to live with on a daily basis, for fear of what it would do to my general mood and personality.

Look, I'm not immune to the charms of a good pop album. As much as I hate to admit it, I did buy albums by both Lady Gaga and LMFAO this year, and not as jokes either. Adele's “21” is a pop album in the sense that Amy Winehouse or Norah Jones were pop musicians: even if something's not exactly what people think they are looking for, sometimes good pop songwriting and performances do win out. There's not a lot more to say than that “Rolling in the Deep” has got to be the best song of the year, and I'm glad to see Adele get the widespread recognition she deserves for making a heart-felt album and singing her ass off. Everyone's at least heard that one song, and I'm not even sick of it yet. It seems unfair that something so powerful can just pop up on your radio and take your breath away, without even a hint of warning.

Here's why I hate Matador Records. There are a few primary outlets where I get my music from (digitally, in order of preference: eMusic, Amazon, 7Digital). And Matador doesn't play nice (digitally speaking) with eMusic, and their records are rarely discounted on any of the other sites. Just for albums released this year, I bought somewhere between 80-100 albums (and that doesn't include any back catalog material from anyone), so getting a good price is pretty important. And one of my rules is that I don't pay $10 for an album of downloads. You can usually track down the physical CD for around that much, and you can re-sell that if you really don't want it anymore. If you're going to maintain a habit of music gluttony over a period of time like I have, you have to set and follow some rules.

I came across “The Other Shoe” on some blog or other that I was following, the person was hyping it as the best single of the year. I don't know if I'd go that far, but it's really, really good, and I knew I was going to have to get this album immediately upon release. Two problems: the downloads were $10 across the board. I'm not saying it's not worth it, but I am saying I won't pay that for any download. Which led the second problem: I live in a small town, and it's at least a 45 minute drive to any self-respecting record store that wouldn't mind stocking a CD by a band calling themselves “Fucked Up.” Go ahead, go to your local Target or Walmart and see the look on the clerk's face when you ask them for “the latest Fucked Up release.”

All of that meant that getting my big, sweaty paws on this album was going to be a big production, involving dealing with big city traffic and parking just to find out if a particular store even had this album in stock. But I'm telling you, it was worth it. I'd listened to the band casually before, I wouldn't call myself a fan or anything. Point being, I was already accustomed to singer Damian Abraham's voice, and it wasn't likely to be an impediment to my enjoyment of this album. To put it impolitely, he's in the running for worst voice in rock, probably somewhere in the neighborhood of Rancid's Tim Armstrong. And many, many people have whined and moaned about Abraham's voice. But it's not about the tool, it's what you do with it, and both manage to get a lot of what might be considered a limited range.

If I'm going to dust off the critical adjective checklist, “David Comes to Life” is a post-hardcore concept album, about a couple falling in love. There is a music video for “Queen of Hearts” (which I'll include shortly) that has schoolchildren singing the song: if you can make it through without tearing up, you're a better man (or woman) than I. And when you're listening to the actual album for the first time, after you've seen this video with the smoother vocals, you might find yourself cringing at Abraham's voice. But what you need to ask yourself is that, if he and his band are capable of creating such a moving piece of music, what's a little gravel in one's voice between friends?

There's this episode of “American Dad” where Stan Smith discovers My Morning Jacket, and it completely changes his life. And that episode is why I feel really guilty for how much I love “Circuital.” Believe you me, jam bands and the like (or anything in the Dave Matthews Band realm of music) is not my usual fare, and I'm past the age when discovering a new band is supposed to be a life-altering event. In fact, I think that I'm supposed to merely acknowledge anything that occurs in my life with either a bemused smile or a shrug and a stiff drink at this point. Anything more or less would be alarming and age-inappropriate.

So I don't want to suggest that I have a room dedicated to MMJ, or that I force discussions of their lyrics onto anyone who shows even the slightest interest. But for whatever reason, this album clicked with me in a way that 2006's “Z” didn't (that was my first exposure to the band). I didn't give them another chance until “Circuital,” and then only because I had a surplus of Coke Rewards Points that I could redeem for a limited selection of album downloads. Resentfully, I got this album and Eddie Vedder's “Ukelele Songs” (which wasn't bad, either).

Other than “Holdin on to Black Metal,” there aren't a lot of big, catchy songs. But I suppose that for whatever reason, I just needed to hear something spacy, pleasant, and mellow. And I needed to hear it a lot. I don't want to over-intellectualize this album; I like it, I've listened to it a lot, and it's a good album. It's also probably a really great album for enhanced relaxation, if you smell what MMJ is smoking. But even if you don't, it's still a good album. This is an everyday album: there are a lot of critically acclaimed albums that are interesting or “good,” but I can't live with them on a day-to-day basis. “Circuital” is good enough to keep me interested, but not so off-putting or boundary-pushing that I couldn't deal with it on a fairly frequent basis.

Hail Mary Mallon is a collaboration between Aesop Rock, Rob Sonic, and DJ Big Wiz. Aesop is the most well-known of the batch, although he hasn't had a proper solo album since 2007's “None Shall Pass,” a stone-cold classic. I had heard of Rob Sonic before this; I snagged “Sabotage Gigante” a couple of years ago from the late-Amie Street music store (they had a progressive price-scheme: if you caught onto an album before anyone else, you could download it for as little as a penny. Each download bumped the price up until it was the same cost as you'd find anywhere else. I got “Sabotage” for around a dollar), and generally enjoyed it, although I didn't give it much more thought at the time.

So when I heard that Aesop Rock had a new project with Rob Sonic, I was pretty thrilled. At roughly the same time, the Shabazz Palaces album was getting a lot of Bitchfork attention, while “AYGET?” got a decent, if middling review. I downloaded both albums at roughly the same time, and while I did like the Shabazz Palaces album (as evidenced by it's presence on this list), I absolutely could not stop listening to the Hail Mary Mallon album. It's influence on my listening habits wasn't contained to just this one album, either. I dusted off the Aesop Rock albums I already had, plus bought the one I was missing (Bazooka Tooth”) and one of his EP's as well (“Fast Cars, Danger, Fire and Knives”). I dusted off Rob Sonic's “Sabatage Gigante,” and bought his earlier album, “Telicatessen.” And I've been listening to all of these albums over the last few months in addition to the Hail Mary Mallon album.

What is it exactly that's so appealing about “Are You Gonna Eat That?” Firstly, it has a different atmosphere to it than a lot of rap albums. Like the Shabazz Palaces album, you're not going to hear this album on your stereo and wonder who made it. It sounds different. Like really, really different, and very specific. As in the complete opposite of generic, cut-and-paste a rapper in this spot kinds of productions. There are a lot of, shall I say, flavors here. At first listen, you're going to be struck by two things. First, the music is going to sound a little cold, paranoid, and distant. Not in an unpleasant way, but this isn't an album that's begging for your approval. It's all there, but you're going to have to invite yourself into this party. And unlike the Shabazz Palaces album, which is all open spaces and coldness, it's tempered to a more manageable point here by more danceable beats.

Secondly, these two rappers are going to barrage you with words. These words aren't coming from the usual angles either, you're going to need to do some work to figure out what the fuck they're talking about half the time. And this is where the reward lies: once you get over how different the album sounds, once you get over the fact that Aesop Rock and Rob Sonic aren't going to spell every little thing out for you (although their rhymes have a nice flow to them that you can enjoy simply on that level), you can get down to the business of really getting into the meat of what's there.

There are a couple of entry points here; it's not all off-putting music and obtuse wordplay. Try “Breakdance Beach” to start with. Here's the video for that:

The beat is bigger and bouncier than normal, and on your first spin through the album, this is probably the track that's going to jump out at you. Also useful: you can start to get used to separating the two MCs. They have similar flows and word choices (in that neither use plain language), and their voices are just similar enough to not be jarring when they trade off. This song is pretty playful, and it's got a fun chorus.

Once you're done with that song, the next one that might catch your ear is “Grubstake”

This year, it was completely easy to pick this as my favorite album of the year. It's not a beginner's album (as in, if you're not already into this sort of thing, you might have difficulty getting into the album with the same intensity that I did), which feels like a necessary warning. I want other people to hear it and enjoy it, but it's not a pop album. If the idea of rap music that isn't primarily club music sounds weird to you, Hail Mary Mallon might not be a good fit. But if you're ready, and curious, dig in and enjoy.

*****

I hope all of that made sense, because it's taken me all week to put this post together.  If you've got some time, check out some of those videos, and if you don't, I'm working on putting together a mixcast I'll have up on this site later this week featuring these ten bands.  You know, to listen to on your drive to wherever it is that you'll be going next week.  Until then...

c.